


space for you (the silence between heartbeats)

by acc3ss_denied



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mental Health Issues, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Slytherins, Sad Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acc3ss_denied/pseuds/acc3ss_denied
Summary: Fear.Hermione knew what fear was. It had to be the emotion she experienced the most since she turned 11. Fear was the paralysis of her body as Bellatrix Lestrange cackled over her writhing form. Fear was the thick grief smothering her throat as Harry Potter was declared dead. Hermione knew fear.As she looked up at the boy before her, almost half angel as the waning sun light glinted off of the blonde of his hair. Hermione knew that the tightness in her chest was not fear.—“There is only one way I can love you — and that is wholly. I will love you for everyone of my remaining heart beats, fuck, I’ll love you even in the silence between them.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to ‘Space for You’!  
> I have written quite a lot on other platforms whilst reading on AO3 and have decided to try my hand in it.  
> I find the fanon relationship dynamic between Draco and Hermione to be extremely interesting and have read several works. This will be a post-war story, primarily taking place at an Eighth Year AU at Hogwarts. I hope to deal with the aftermath of the war and aim to accurately depict characters dealing with this differently which will involve the dissolution of some relationships etc.  
> Please enjoy!

Hogwarts was the same. 

Everything that had been ruined, that had been destroyed by war and chaos, had been restored to its original state. It was the first thing that occurred to Hermione as she stared up at the castle she had called home since she was eleven. The same way they were expected to be restored to the way they had been before and return for a final year of school. Except, Hermione didn’t quite know what she was meant to be. The world continued to move, people continued to live and she remained in place. She was stuck. 

Even Harry, the Boy who Lived (and then died) and Lived Again, was moving. She had expected some stagnancy — his prophecy was complete and he no longer had the same ‘purpose’ that had driven him for the prior years. Instead it did the exact opposite, he had the license to pursue his own desires without feeling the weight of the (Wizarding) world on his shoulders. And Hermione was happy for him — _truly_ , she was. She was beyond happy he found his own reprieve from the lingering nightmares.

But, why was Hermione expected to be the same? Why was “You should be excited — you wanted to finish NEWTs before!” all that people would say to her? That was who she was. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. This was exactly where she was meant to be. This was exactly what she should be doing — it was what she and everyone else had always expected her to do. The same way it was no surprise when she and Ron quickly became official after the war. This was what she should be doing.

As she stepped inside the Great Hall the feeling of walls closing in on her devoured her whole. Trapped. Shadows of fallen friends cluttered the floor, a gasp tumbling from her mouth without her notice. It was bare. Her two friends stood at her either side — her boyfriend on one and the saviour of the Wizarding World on the other. Trapped. There was a scream somewhere in the distance, desperate. Absentmindedly, she noted it was familiar. The sound echoing through a drawing room. A knife dragging against tiles. A stray raven hair. Blood. So much blood. _Mudblood_.

”Alright?” Ron nudged her side gently, eyes drifting over the familiar sight of the Great Hall. He moved towards the Gryffindor as though it were a magnet, as though it was exactly where he was meant to be. Hermione nodded, focusing on the motions of lifting her feet from the ground one at a time to get her to where she needed to be. To get her to where was was meant to be. Familiar voices called out to her, greeting her. Their faces weren’t familiar. Or maybe they were. She wouldn’t look for too long — the flashes of long dead faces grimly replacing those of her friends.

McGonagall delivered a succinct speech, speaking of reunion, peace and developing a new normal. Moving forward. There was a fork handle shaped indentation in the palm of Hermione’s left hand. 

Desperate. Hermione was desperate, eyes scattering across the Great Hall as she searched. She didn’t know what she was searching for — everything and nothing. Something to tell her everything was exactly how it was meant to be. Something to hold on to as the world continued to spin on without her. All she found was a pair of molten silver eyes.

**—**

Draco had resigned himself to a quiet, purposely invisible year. The Slytherins and he had established an irrevocable agreement to stick to themselves and avoid everyone else at all costs. Their house had always been unpopular, always subject to generalisations without evidence but, now a handful of them had proven them right. He knew what he would be facing when he returned to Hogwarts for an Eighth Year and he knew it had to be he who took the brunt of it for his housemates. 

None of them had returned by choice but, it was he who would have his immunity revoked had he not agreed to return. It was he who had to attend probation meetings to review his behaviour reformation and ensure it was maintained or else he be expelled. The best way to avoid that was to keep his head down and out of the way. His only way. Draco considered the notion that his life had been a collection of ‘only ways’. This time it appeared to be a better option for everyone, at least.

He had prepared himself for Potter. The Boy who Lived had been the one to vouch for his mother and enable him to be granted immunity. He had prepared himself to endure the sight of him, to endure knowing that he indubitably owed his freedom to the boy he had loathed since he was a child. He had been prepared to find Gryffindor generally insufferable — as he has always done.

Draco wasn’t prepared for the misery painted across Granger’s face. He wasn’t prepared for the lost expression on her face, one he had never seen before. He wasn’t prepared for the desperation in her eyes as they met across the Hall. Guilt and regret encompassed him, sucking the air from his lungs, eyes averting from hers as quickly as they had met. 

He tucked the feeling into a box — the same one that contained thoughts of telling Hogwarts and the Wizengamot to fuck and pretending the world didn’t exist for two years in Azkaban. He pushed the box as far from the front of his mind as possible. 


	2. the coward and the terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she could live with him — the living reminder of her suffering, a coward who did nothing — he could learn to live with the guilt that threatened to swallow him whole. For once he would face something head on.

**WHITE NOISE** filled Hermione’s ears — not dissimilar to the sensation of cotton wool being stuffed into her ears. She was Head Girl. It was what she had dreamed of since she was eleven — to show everyone how brilliant a muggle born witch could be and prove their prejudice wrong. As soon as the words passed from McGonagall’s mouth, Hermione had ceased to listen. In the back of her mind she noted that the Professor’s lips were moving but no sound came from them. The same crooning voice that narrated her plaguing nightmares crept up on her, _she was doing exactly what she was meant to_.

”Miss Granger, are you listening?” McGonagall’s voice was stern but, there was no hiding the concern swimming in her eyes as she watched the girl stare at the wall in terror.

Hermione jumped, the sound returning was a sharp contrast to the muffled silence that had begun to fill her mind. “Sorry Professor,” she ducked her head, embarrassed, “I lost myself for a second there.”

The professor hummed, eyes raking over her student with concern, as though checking that nothing was amiss or obviously wrong. “That’s quite alright,” she said, choosing to tuck her concern away for a later date, “I was just explaining that Draco Malfoy would be your fellow Head of School for the year.”

There was a heavy silence as Hermione finally allowed her eyes to rest on the Headmistress. It was safe to say she was confused at the least. Even if she ignored his obvious unpopularity within the school, Draco had dropped all school extracurricular activities in sixth year, including prefect. Then, when considering his reputation within the school, Hermione was probably one of a handful of people who wouldn’t object to him returning to school. Her stance, agreeing with Harry for speaking at his mother’s trial and her request for his immunity, had caused one of her and Ron’s largest arguments to date. 

Her lack of answer was taken as an opportunity to continue explaining the situation. “Prior to his... sixth year... Mr Malfoy had been one of the school’s most extraordinary students, academically, and was second only to you. Being Head Boy as an opportunity for him to display behavioural reform before leaving school.” Hermione found herself agreeing, Draco had always been a few marks behind her in all classes, with the exception of Potions which he had always been first in. She paused at the phrase ‘behavioural reform’ as it sounded rather official but, there had been no talk of it at his trial. 

“Furthermore.” Hermione looked up from where she had averted her eyes to the portraits staggered up the right most wall. “You, as one of my most esteemed students, will be more than able to ensure his behaviour does not stray from its... reform.”

It dawned on her then, Draco wasn’t being given the position as an act of good faith. He wasn’t being even really being given the opportunity to display a change in behaviour or good will. “I hardly think Draco Malfoy will appreciate me, of all people, to babysit him,” Hermione said, rubbing the palm of her hand roughly against her jaw.

The Headmistress sighed, “The Ministry—“

”—Granted him immunity.” There was definitely a furrow between her eyebrows now. If she was being honest, Hermione couldn’t pinpoint why it was this annoyed her. Perhaps it was that still holding the boy accountable for those crimes reminded her of how nothing from the War was really going away. Be it the screams and voices that followed her places. Be it the stares she tried _so_ hard to ignore. Be it the scars from that wretched day in Malfoy Manor. Even Ron and her’s strained relationship was a reminder, the screaming matches hidden by wards, the overlying threat of someone leaving. This was just one more thing trapping her. 

McGonagall winced, it was not lost on her the lack of clarity on the matter. “There are considerations that I am not at liberty to tell you.” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, grim faces shuttering over the portraits on the edge of her vision. “Miss Granger, the surest way for you to be sure he’s granted fair immunity is to keep an eye on him.” 

Because that’s what Hermione Granger would do. So steadfast to declare things unfair, unjust. She would take the matter personally and ensure the fair thing was done. The voice crooned at her the whole way to the Head Dormitories.

The door to the shared area opened easily as she murmured the password. It appeared the room was decorated as neutrally as possible, incorporating pieces from each house to include whoever happened to be a Head that year. Towards the back there was a small table and three chairs beside a collection of cupboards — she supposed it was a makeshift kitchen and eating area. To the left was one dormitory, the door cracked slightly open so she assumed that was the one his bags had been placed in, and to the right was her dormitory. Her eyes reached the centre of the room last, a three seat sofa and two matching armchairs all faced a crackling hearth.

Staring up at her from the sofa was Draco Malfoy, grey eyes widening ever so slightly when her eyes rested on him. For a second she took him in, ruffled platinum blonde hair and silvery eyes muted by the purpling bags beneath them. His long sleeve white shirt was loose, too loose, it betrayed how thin he was, despite the broadness of his shoulders. Hermione didn’t think she’d seen anyone so tired before — not even when she had noticed how sickly he had looked in sixth year.

She breathed out a stuttered sigh, shuffling past the sofa as quickly as possibly, murmuring a quiet and restrained greeting as she passed, “Hello.” There was no chance for him to respond, her dormitory door shutting softly behind her as soon as she entered.

* * *

**HERMIONE GRANGER** was scared of him. Her voice had shook the night before as she greeted him, moving faster than he’d seen someone do in a confined space so she could be as far from him as humanly possible. Who could blame her? He had been there — the worst day of her life. It was his house. He had left — he could have done something. Would he have died? _Probably_. Better that than hearing those screams everytime he closed his eyes for the rest of his life. So what if he had made sure they had gotten the wands. So what if he had made sure all of his spells missed. So what if he had refused to identify them. Draco Malfoy was a coward. He was a horrible coward. One who couldn’t even force himself to outwardly express his own desire to do the right thing _for once_. One who could only follow what he was told to do, follow the monster his father had welcomed into their home.

If she could live with him — the living reminder of her suffering, a coward who did nothing — he could learn to live with the guilt that threatened to swallow him whole. For once he would face something head on.

He hadn’t moved from the sofa all night, the thought of sleeping in the room filled him with inexplicable trepidation — a reminder of the fear that had gripped him in his own house. The sun had risen, peaking through the curtains towards the back of the room and he had stayed. Only when small signs of movement came from the room beside him did he return to his own dormitory, showering and putting a new set of clothes on for the day. The announcement of Heads of School had been delayed, Draco could guess it was because of his controversial appointment to the post. He would have to deal with it, deal with the outrage — it’s not like he disagreed with them anyway. It was surreal, the thought of he and Granger telling the Prefects what to do. They’d undoubtedly listen to her so, his safest option was to support her decisions — no one can disagree with him if he’s agreeing with Granger.

There was a knock on the common room door. Draco paused, hanging his robes onto one of the hooks before heading over to it. _Was it possible someone had already found out and was here to yell at him_? Only Theo and Blaise knew, he wanted to let them know he wouldn’t be sharing with them so, by extension, Daphne and Pansy would also know. Bracing himself, he pulled the door open, carefully arranging his features into a cold mask. 

Ron Weasley froze, a look of utter bewilderment morphing onto his face, “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” His lip curled up as though he smelt something disgusting. _Well_ , he thought, _Weasley certainly wasn’t visiting him, that’s for sure_.

Without answering, he turned from the doorway and headed to Granger’s dormitory. He rapt his knuckles against the door gently, knowing she was already awake, “Granger,” he called, “Weasley’s here for you.” The sound of muffled movement increased and he nodded, moving away from the door. 

The red haired boy stepped into the common room, a snarl contorting his features as he looked around. “How the fuck did you end up Head Boy?” His voice was bitter, the extra inches he had on him allowing him to stare down at Draco with unhindered disgust. “What exactly is your _Mummy_ doing to keep you from rotting in Azkaban?” Part of Draco was expecting him to spit on him, the way his lip curled back certainly made it appear as though he would. “It’s not like Daddy’s paying for anything anymore, is it? No — that bastard got what he deserved.” His parents. The people he had always loved most in the world. The people he had always been desperate to appease. Then again, where had that helped him end up? His father had let a monster into the house where he had grown up, had given him to that monster. 

But, his mother. His beautiful mother. The woman who would have happily let the world burn to save Draco. The woman who had lied to Voldemort, in the hope that Harry Potter would defeat him and Draco would be able to live in a world without the monster that followed him everywhere. The woman who he took the Dark Mark for, who he would do anything for. His mother was far braver than he. Draco was a coward. A coward who couldn’t tell Ron Weasley to leave his mother out of it. He was right in a way — not in the way his cruel tone suggested — if Harry Potter hadn’t vouched for his mother, crediting her actions to him being able to kill Voldemort, if she hadn’t agreed to collaborate in bringing remaining Death Eaters to justice, Draco would be sat in Azkaban right beside his Father.

“Ronald.” Granger’s voice was terse, a grim expression on her face as she stared her boyfriend down. Draco breathed out softly, turning away from Weasley quickly and heading to grab his robe. He didn’t turn back as he ducked out of the doorway, shutting the door behind him roughly. Draco was a coward.

The journey to the Great Hall was one spent with his head ducked down and eyes trained to the ground. Thankfully, he had chosen to head to breakfast early so, not too many people were looking at him when he strode over to the Slytherin table. Theo and Blaise appeared to have had similar ideas, occupying the far end of the table so they were essentially tucked into the corner as far out of the way as possible. 

“Alright, mate?” Blaise asked lowly, hand reaching out to grab his shoulder gently as he slid onto the bench beside him. Draco only nodded, inclining his head at Theo in greeting before grabbing two slices of toast from the centre of the table with perpetually shaking hands. “Dorm’s weird without you — no brooding in the corner,” Blaise chuckled, nudging his side, “At least Theo’s is less noticeable.”

The curly haired boy scoffed, flipping the dark skinned boy off swiftly before tossing a piece of bacon into his mouth. “I don’t _brood_.”

“Sure you don’t,” Blaise retorted, voice airy as he smiled at his best friend mockingly. “Not like our angsty friend here,” he nudged Draco’s side again. He liked that about Blaise, he always tried his best to make him feel involved — even if at the time he hates it. 

Pansy slid into the bench across from him with Daphne close on her heels, “Already calling Draco angsty, are we?” She commented, instantly reaching for the mug of tea in front of her, “You should be kinder to our Head Boy.” A series of mocking ‘oh’s came from his friends and he groaned, sliding down his seat exasperatedly.

It was at that moment the Head Girl entered the Great Hall, trailed behind her red faced boyfriend who stormed ahead towards the Gryffindor table. Granger looked dead on her feet, slowly dragging herself over to the table and sitting onto the bench opposite Weasley. Her boyfriend blatantly turned away from her, engaging Seamus into a rather expressive conversation involving hand gestures.

”Jesus Christ,” Blaise commented, “Trouble in paradise?” There was a teasing edge to his voice as watched the obnoxious display on Weasley’s part. The other three Slytherins turned to look, spotting the lost expression on Granger’s face instantly.

There was a collective sharp intake of breath, the Slytherins turning away from the incoming train-wreck at the Gryffindor table. “Weasley wasn’t pleased to see we were sharing a dormitory,” Draco explained lowly, eyes still trained on Granger as she persevered in trying to get her boyfriend’s attention.

”How idiotic,” Pansy commented, rolling her eyes, “That’s neither of your fault — it’s not like you asked for it.” She glanced backwards again, the spectacle was quickly gathering several more onlookers.

Daphne hummed, immediately spotting the desperate look on Granger’s face as Weasley whirled round to face her. Softly she swore under her breath, watching the Gryffindor flinch backwards as Weasley spat out a series of cruel words before storming out of the Great Hall. “Poor girl looks exhausted, he doesn’t even realise,” she turned back to her plate, messing with the remaining scrambled eggs, “She deserves much better than that pig, that’s for sure.”

The group hummed in agreement. Draco clenched his jaw, that same guilt threatening to swallow him whole as he watched Granger squeeze her eyes shut, a look of utter distress on her face. _You’re going to do nothing_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father whisperer, _just like you did in the Manor._ Their eyes met, tears slowly welling up in hers as she searched for something, anything. All she found was Draco. And Draco was a coward.

* * *

**HERMIONE WAS TERRIBLE** — it circled in her mind, the thought turning itself over as she examined it. She was selfish, she was going to ruin everyone’s expectations of her. How could she feel trapped in a relationship with her former best friend? Her and Ron was expected, everyone was just waiting for it to happen. It was so expected that Hermione had honestly resigned it to happen, it was always a matter of time before they got together.

It wasn’t working. She and Ron had always had a volatile relationship, continuously arguing to the point where Harry would have to side with one of them. He would always choose Ron — Hermione knew that — there was a bond between them that she didn’t have with either of them. Ron was in love with the idea of her — as cliché as it sounded — he was in love with the girl who scolded them for leaving homework to the last minute, the girl whose biggest fear was being expelled. He didn’t love who she was anymore; he didn’t love the girl who woke up screaming from phantom curses that her body remembered, he didn’t love the girl who felt as though she didn’t belong in her own skin. That was fine, people grow about and change, they fall out of love. Ron couldn’t accept that, she just needed to be who he _knew_ she was, not this shadow of who she used to be.

But she couldn’t. If he continued to force her into the shape of who she used to be it would kill her, slowly but surely — Hermione knew that much. How could she end things, though? Ron wasn’t exactly himself; he was angry and grieving, the loss of Fred still fresh on his mind. It didn’t matter if Hermione was grieving her parents loss of memory — they weren’t dead, at least. So, Hermione was trapped. Hermione was terrible because she didn’t want to be trapped. Hermione was terrible because everyone thought she was where she was meant to be. She couldn’t be selfish, be terrible — so, she stayed.

There was a reprieve, at the very least. Hermione directed herself to the side of the Charms classroom as far away from Ron and Harry as physically possible. That was where she stayed, head cradled in her hands, as she waited for the classroom to fill up with the remaining Eighth Years.

”Can I sit here?” The voice that asked was melodic, Hermione looked up to see Daphne Greengrass smiling down at her kindly but, with a rather determined look in her eyes. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen Daphne ever be remarkably unkind to anyone despite her best friend being Pansy Parkinson, who had been notoriously unkind to everyone in their younger years.

Hermione returned the smile tiredly, pulling the adjacent back for her, “Yeah, of course.”

Daphne laughed, a sweet sound that made her blue eyes glitter with joy as she tucked a stray blonde ringlet behind her ear. “Perfect, thank you so much!” The Slytherin girl hadn’t stopped smiling since she had sat down and it felt almost contagious. “Those lot left me behind and left me on my own,” she went a rude gesture behind them with a playful smile on her face. 

Holding her breath, Hermione turned to see where she was referring to. She knew the group of people she was talking about and she physically braced herself for an unkind response. To her utter surprise, they all just nodded at her in acknowledgement, Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini both waving a single hand in greeting from their tables a couple rows behind them. She could have sworn Pansy Parkinson had smiled at her, reluctantly or not. 

Her shock must have been evident but Daphne didn’t let it bother her, swiftly unpacking her books and arranging her quills meticulously as she chartered happily. “I wanted to say,” her voice lowered from the cheerful pitch she had been speaking with before, “That I can’t imagine how horrible it must be for you to be back here.” A pit opened in Hermione’s stomach, threatening to swallow her whole. “And, I know we don’t know each other well — or at all, really — but, if you needed to talk to someone, I promise I’m as good a listener as I am a talker,” her tone became more playful as she finished, as though she was worried she had scared her off. 

The pit in her stomach closed and Hermione blinked up at the blonde girl beside her. It was the first time anyone had acknowledged how difficult it would be for her to be here, the first time no one expected her to be excited or happy about returning to school. She laughed brightly, brighter than she had in a while, covering her face with her hands as she did. “Yeah,” she laughed, “It’s pretty fucking horrible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> The first few chapters are going to establish the characters and Hermione is primarily going to be friends with Daphne before she’s friends with the rest of them — understandably given their history.
> 
> I know it kind of looks like I’m setting up for a Ron bashing fic but I don’t want to do that. I really want the characters to be multi-faceted and I want to portray how good people can say and do bad things to other people. Obviously I also want to make sure my characters are held accountable for their actions and Hermione coming to terms with that is definitely going to be part of it. Ron grieving is an explanation for his anger but not an excuse and she needs to work through this in order to end the relationship. Also, it is completely natural to fall out of love with someone especially when you’ve changed a lot as a person — neither are exactly to blame for this, but they are to blame for their actions as they do fall out of love. That’s the sort of thing the start of the story will focus on.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this chapter, thank you so much! x


End file.
